Attack on Justice
by Ardna
Summary: The destruction of Wall Cassandra means the end of humanity's hope. Amidst the chaos, three boys find each other: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake. Three boys become three men, three brothers, driven by purpose. The Titans must be exterminated at all costs. But missions rarely remain simple, and ranks never remain as small as when you started.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's notes:**_What. Am. I. Doing. Bringing y'all with me into a whole new world of hurt, it seems!

_**Warnings:**_Gore and character death. Some smoking.

* * *

**PART ONE: FROM ASHES, INTO ASHES**

**1. KICK**

* * *

No one knows where the Titans came from, or why, or if someone sent them. No one knows if they had a name before humanity gave them one. What we do know is this: more than a hundred years ago, giants appeared in this world, and their sole purpose seems to be devouring humans.

Some call them mankind's natural predator. Others say that they are spawn of Hell, sent to punish the wicked. There are many things that people believe, some utterly ridiculous and others too horrible to relate. But the truth is simple. They prey on us. They are stronger than us. And no one knows if they can be killed.

So how are we still here? Our race has been driven to the brink of extinction, this is true. In a last attempt for survival, we built the Walls—three 50-meter barriers to protect what remains of humanity—and here we have hidden away from the Titans for a hundred years.

The safety we have made for ourselves is a comfort. No Titan exists that is taller than fifteen meters, and they are not intelligent enough to learn a way to scale a 50-meter wall, much less three of them. This century of peace will be followed by another, and another after that.

For such a strong species, we really do make the simplest mistakes.

* * *

The year was 845. Summer was finally coming to Gotham District. The other dreary cityscape was recovering its color, and a buzz of energy had been building up since spring. Dick Grayson could feel it through his fingers, splayed against the damp earth. He somersaulted, his toes briefly springing off the ground, then was balancing on his hands again as he moved precariously along a fence.

"Hey, Dick!"

The boy paused, gripping the wood under his palms firmly before craning his neck up. His lips pulled back into a smile, blue eyes turning bright. "Yo!" he called back.

"Walking on your hands, I see. What did you do to incur the wrath of your mom this time?" The wildly freckled youth who made these comments sauntered over, a large satchel slung over his shoulder. His bright orange hair still had the spiky, windswept look Dick remembered.

Wally West stopped, bending over slightly so his head was on the same level as Dick's. He must have grown at least three inches since last summer. Dick smirked at his friend and answered his inquiry. "I may have provided some lonely earwigs with a new home in Miss Katerina's rice."

"Dick!" Wally leaned, howling with laughter. He dropped his pack down on the grass and shoved Dick off the fence. The other boy landed on his feet easily, brushing soil off his hands. "You're definitely the same little troll I left here last fall." Wally quirked an eyebrow. "Emphasis on the _little._"

"Do you want to die?"

Wally sniggered unrepentantly. Dick was about to threaten his wellbeing further when he felt a very familiar presence right behind him. "And what is my little bird doing standing on his two feet?" Mary Grayson asked. She had that smile on that Dick was sure could scare people right out of their skin. "Handstand for an hour, Dick, remember?"

Dick instantly pointed to his best friend. "He pushed me."

"Yes, I did." Wally was still completely unrepentant. Actually, he was smug. Dick made faces at him as his mother went over to say hello. John Grayson seemed to pop up from nowhere, rubbing his knuckles across Wally's scalp.

"I thought you'd be showing up soon," the acrobat said cheerfully. Wally kept squawking as he tried to escape the man's chokehold, and Dick cackled. "How's it going, Wally?"

"Great," Wally replied. "Now can you let me go so I can beat up my pal?"

It was obvious who Dick had gotten his cackle from. John released the teenager, continuing to chuckle lightly. "You two are just like me and Rick."

"Yes, a couple of troublemakers." Mary didn't seem to have any problems with this though, if her fond expression was anything to go by. "You go get yourself settled in, Wally, I'm sure you know where everything is by now. Dick, we're meeting in the practice area in ten minutes. One moment late and I'll twist you into a pretzel."

"Yes ma'am!" Wally seemed concerned by Dick's instantaneous response. Apparently Mrs. Grayson had backed this threat up before. John and Mary went elsewhere then, Mary bumping John's shoulder with her own as she grabbed his hand. Dick started to lift up Wally's bag, but he stopped and turned wide eyes on his friend. "What are you _packing_ in this thing?"

Wally laughed sheepishly, heaving the pack back up over his shoulder. He and Dick started crossing the circus grounds, home for Dick and familiar ground for Wally. "I may have made a bet with my uncle that I can design 3D Maneuver Gear that moves faster than his does, without burning up as much gas."

"Isn't your uncle the personal assistant to the guy who _invented_ Maneuver Gear?"

"Yeah." Wally seemed both amused and embarrassed. "If I don't prove my theory by the end of summer, I have to keep Barry's lab clean all the way through next spring."

Dick burst out laughing. "Wally, what _is_ it with you and truly dumb ideas?"

"Dude! Feel my pain here some, at least!"

They kept laughing, and fell into a relaxed silence as they moseyed along. Dick was practically aglow with happiness. It was good to have Wally back again.

Dick and Wally had been best friends since Dick was nine. Wally's family had come out to Gotham District for some sort of meeting, and it was the circus' last performance of that season. The Wests got to see for themselves the Flying Graysons, and the two boys had bumped into each other afterwards. Wally shared his hot cocoa with Dick, and Dick taught Wally how to cartwheel. They had been best pals ever since.

Wally came every summer now to stay with the Graysons as Haly's Circus traveled all around Wall Cassandra, starting and finishing their circuit at Gotham District. Last year, Dick had gotten to spend the winter in Central District with Wally's family. He had been amazed that his parents had allowed it, but very glad.

They had gotten into lots of trouble together, him and Wally. Somehow they managed to keep making it out relatively unscathed. It was fun having someone to laugh with. And the first time Dick had seriously talked to Wally, during the winter he stayed with the Wests, well… it turned out that his goofy friend had quite a heart.

It had been four years now. Dick was twelve and Wally was fourteen. And Dick had obviously been spacing out for too long, because Wally was waving a hand in front of his face. The younger boy blinked, taking half a step back.

"There you are," Wally said. "I need the spare key for your caravan."

"Oh, right." Dick unlocked the caravan and hopped in, going to the lockbox where Wally's key was kept. Wally tossed his pack on the bed that was usually just for Dick, to be unpacked later. They both got out of the small living space, and Dick locked the door again before passing the other key to Wally, who dropped it over his head and tucked it underneath his shirt.

"And now you are settled in," said Dick. "Hey, didn't your parents come with you?"

"Nah. Just me this time." Wally sounded a little too casual, so Dick knew he was unhappy about it. It always took the older boy a few days before he was back to his usual self. "Dad's working overtime to pay off some loans he took out to help a friend. Mom's helping a establishing a clinic in one of the towns to the south of Central. Who's the lady she's doing it with? Something Reyes. Betty? Bertha?"

"Brenda, maybe? Or Bianca?"

"Bianca, that's it! Bianca Reyes. Her husband's apparently serving with the Survey Corps near here. Anyway, that's why I came solo this year." He looked over as Dick swung back down to his hands, feet pointed to the air. "Sure you can make it to practice in four minutes walking on your hands? You don't want to get twisted into a pretzel."

"Oh, being a pretzel isn't so bad. It's getting stuck that I'm worried about." Dick started moving, and Wally could see why being late wasn't a concern for the young acrobat. At that moment Miss Katerina walked past, and she laughed before shaking a finger at Dick. The old fortunate teller's reproving look was betrayed by the twinkle in her eyes.

"You're excited," Wally observed. He had noticed that Dick was grinning a little bit more than usual.

"Heck yeah! Tonight's the big night, Wallman!" It felt a little awkward holding conversation while walking upside-down, but Dick didn't mind so much. He was in way too good of a mood to be bothered.

Wally seemed to be catching Dick's enthusiasm already; he could easily see the bounce in his friend's step. Wally was great that way. "Oh yeah, opening night for Haly's Circus, and of course the Flying Graysons. Start of the new season, right? I've always missed it by a couple of nights before."

Dick smiled to himself, a secret smile. He was always excited for opening night, but this time was something extra special. Tonight, he was going to shock his best friend—shock the entire audience—and become the youngest fully fledged member of the Flying Graysons in history. Tonight, he was going to perform in the finale.

He was so excited, he could barely breathe. Although that could have something to do with his current position upside-down.

* * *

Every district within the walls had its rough neighborhoods. Gotham had more than most. Skirting the outside wall was a collection of rundown houses that bred a special sort of people—hard, cynical survivalists, and sturdy hopefuls who couldn't be shaken from their belief that better things were down the road.

Catherine Todd was like that. Jason Todd was not. The ten-year-old was as cynical as could be, but one thing he did bear in common with his mother was his strong temper. At least once a day he'd manage to get into a fight of some sort.

Today he had been collecting firewood (to his mind, glorified sticks), scrapping with other boys for the best stuff. _Other boys_ often meant _bigger boys,_ but Jason's ferocity had gotten him a reputation. After such a long day, Jason was exhausted and tense. He'd had a knot of anxiety twisting in his stomach since he had woken up this morning, and he didn't know why. It was part of the reason he'd gotten into so many fights today. Mom wasn't going to be pleased with all of the new cuts and bruises on Jason's face, not to mention the rest of him.

The boy reached inside of his jacket, fingers wrapping around the worn packet of cigarettes that were the last thing he had left of his father. He struck a match against the sole of his left shoe and lit a cigarette. The roll between his lips felt more comfortable each time.

His mother would furious if she found out. She didn't like it when he did the same stuff his father had used to, before he left. Jason thought there was a cruel irony to the fact that the same night Willis Todd had ditched his family, he was murdered in the street. The only thing that hadn't been ripped from his pockets had been the packet of cigarettes, and for some reason Jason had kept that. He stole matches from the house every now and again.

He had lit seven cigarettes since the morning they had found his dad's body, more than two years ago. He hadn't cried. At least, not that he could remember. This marked his eighth cigarette. Something about watching the smoke curl lazily up through the air made him feel more relaxed. He liked it.

Jason pulled the cigarette away from his lips, exhaling as he sank down to the ground with his back against the wall of the house he was hiding by. The smoke was a nice change from what this place usually smelled like. He was slowly relaxing, but that nasty feeling still twisted in his stomach, like something bad was about to happen.

"You're going to be late for dinner."

Jason panicked, scrabbling to keep from dropping his cigarette and trying to avoid burning himself at the same. In the end, he kept his cigarette but burned the thumb of his left hand. His fingers clenched as he tried not to do something pathetic, like scream, and he glared up at his intruder.

"Dangit, Talia! I've told you not to sneak up on me like that!"

Talia al Ghul was not intimidated by Jason's wrath. She never was, and that wasn't surprising from a woman who could break backs. The cigarette was plucked from Jason's hand and stomped out in the dirt. "It's time for you to be heading home, Jason. Mrs. Todd needs that firewood."

Jason scowled at where the remains of his cigarette had been ground into the soil. "Why did we ever think that providing your dad the doc with local lodgings would be a good idea?" He shook his head and continued to grumble, hauling himself up to his feet and grabbed his carrier full of wood.

"Because Father pays well," Talia replied matter-of-factly. She ruffled Jason's hair and the boy huffed indignantly, trotting several steps ahead to stay out of her reach.

Dr. Ra's al Ghul and his daughter had been staying with the Todd family for the past year during visits to Gotham District. Dr. al Ghul preferred to be nearer to where the most sickness was, rather than a high-class location far away. He was legendary for stopping epidemics in their tracks. What was the count up to now? Five, Jason thought.

There was something creepy about Dr. al Ghul, though, something Jason couldn't put his finger on. Yet he still found himself drawn in by the mysteriousness of the man, so he was disappointed to see familiar packed bag by the door. Shouldn't there be more than one? Dr. al Ghul was handing a final payment to Catherine Todd as Talia and Jason walked in.

"Jason, you're late," Catherine chided her son. Jason scowled, scuffing his shoe on the floor as he muttered an apology. He shrugged off the wood carrier and hurried over to the rack.

Dr. al Ghul didn't fail to notice Jason's repeated glances his way. He smiled slightly. "It's only a business trip, young Todd. I'll be back in a few days. And before you ask, Talia: yes, I am sure about going alone. I am not so terribly frail as all that, you know."

The doctor picked up his briefcase and then paused, gazing at a key he had pulled out of his pocket. "Jason."

Jason stopped stacking wood, looking over. "Yeah?"

Dr. al Ghul's eyes gleamed strangely. The bright green of his gaze made Jason's own seem gray in comparison. "When I get back, I'm going to show you that basement I've always kept secret from you."

"R-really?"

"Yes. I think it's time."

Catherine nudged her son. "Thanks, Dr. al Ghul," he said quickly.

The doctor nodded and went out the door. Jason threw the last few pieces of wood onto the rack and ran over to the window, watching him go down the walkway that would eventually take him to the docks along the river.

A smile slowly spread Jason's face. He had something to look forward to when Dr. al Ghul got back, something cool. At least, it had better be cool. Jason couldn't imagine why it wouldn't be, with someone like the doc.

"I'll make sure he gets there," he told his mother, and rushed out of the house.

Talia looked over at Catherine. "I'll make sure he comes back."

Catherine shook her head with a laugh. "I'm never going to know what to do with that boy."

* * *

It had started a couple of days ago. Certain things had turned blurry, and it was getting harder to read. Tim Drake was not okay with this new development, not in the least. Reading was important! What would he do if he couldn't do that? Maybe Dad would know what to do…

Tim was out in the big yard surrounding the manor he and his father lived in. It was big and grand, but Tim didn't like it. It was _too_ big and grand for just two people and some servants. The only time it was full was during dinner parties, and Tim only got to hang around for a little while during those. He liked the suits and gowns, but once the adults started talking to him like he was a dumb kid, everything stopped being fun.

Mm, but it was nice today. There were no parties to get ready for, Dad had come home from the business early today, and it really felt like summer. Tim sprawled out in the grass, his shoes and stockings abandoned elsewhere in the yard. He smiled as he looked up at the sky, turning golden with the sunset. It probably wouldn't be long before Miss Elizabeth was sent out to fetch him.

The seven-year-old hummed. It had been a good day. Tonight, he would have dinner with his dad, and later on they would sit together in the parlor and read. Who cared if it was getting a little hard? It was Tim's favorite thing to do, ever.

* * *

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, what you have truly been waiting for… the grand finale, brought to you by none other than the Flying Graysons!"

The audience roared. It seemed louder to Dick each year. He smiled and waved with the rest of his family as the spotlight returned to them. Every year before, this was the part when he stepped back. Tonight, though, he was going out there with them. The last flying Grayson to join the finale. The adrenaline coursing through his system was almost enough to make him giddy.

Cousin JJ clapped his shoulder, grinning. Dick had been worried that the teenager would be jealous that he was starting younger than he had, but it turned out that he had nothing to worry about. JJ had nearly blown his top with excitement upon learning of the plan. He was definitely the son of Rick and Karla Grayson.

Dick whispered along with his dad as the net was pulled out. "No net, Ringmaster! That's not the show these people came here to see!"

The audience cheered. Dick spotted Wally in the seat Haly's Circus always reserved for him, the one that could be perfectly seen from the trapeze. Dick's mom had given him a scarf earlier, since it was going to be chilly this evening, and Wally was wearing it now. Dick thought it was fitting that his best friend had something that matched the red of the Grayson uniforms.

He waved, and it looked like Wally returned two thumbs up. He hadn't figured out the secret yet. Good.

Haly had the net tucked away. John Grayson offered his hand to his wife, bowing, and Mary laughed before catapulting of his shoulders. Dick loved watching his parents goof around. Two Graysons in movement. Uncle Rick and Aunt Karla picked up JJ by the arms and legs, cackling at his noisy squawking, and flung him off the platform. He was caught by John. Three Graysons in movement. Uncle Rick and Aunt Karla held hands, somersaulting in tandem to the trapeze bars John and Mary had sent swinging towards them. Five Graysons in movement.

"Hey, Dick!" John called, his circus voice filling the tent. His smile was broad, and so proud that for some reason Dick thought he might cry. "Wanna be the youngest Grayson to ever perform the finale, son?"

"Heck yeah!" Dick shouted back. Forget crying, he was grinning so wide his face was in danger of splitting. This was it. He was going to be the sixth Grayson in movement. He was going to fly with them all the way to the end.

The audience was shocked, just like he had hoped, and they made their pleasure with this turn of events loudly known. Dick could see Wally jump up and punch the air in his excitement, cheering even more loudly than the rest. Dick could hear him.

Just a few more seconds, and everyone would be in position. Dick was going to drop into a handstand and do a back flip off of the platform, completely blind. His father would catch him by the leg, and he'd swing upright and get passed along by his mother. Cousin JJ would be waiting to pair up. This was what they had been practicing all winter, and finally it was going to come to fruition.

Two seconds, and then Dick would move. He shifted his left foot back slightly. The roar of the crowds resounded in his head. The smiles of his family, waiting for him, seemed more wonderful than anything he had ever seen.

"Today's the day," Dick whispered to himself. This had been his mantra since he had woken up this morning.

He would never understand how it happened. Much less why. There was a loud _boom,_ like cannon fire, and the ground lurched violently. The pole supporting the opposite platform, and half the tent, came toppling down. The trapeze wires snapped.

The Flying Graysons were suspended in air for an awful moment—Dick's parents looked across to him and reached out their hands—and they all fell. JJ screamed, desperately trying to grab his parents' hands before they slammed into the ground. They became nothing more than a tangle of broken bones and lifeless bodies. The dirt turned into mud, dark red.

The tent was stiflingly silent. Dick dropped to his knees, his fingers gripping the edge of the platform in spite of the splinters. How, how, _why?_ Was this a dream, some horrible dream? What was this fear pounding through him, this unbearable tearing? What was _happening?_

"Mom? Dad?" Dick's voice was tiny, shaking. No one else could hear it. "JJ? Uncle Rick? Aunt Karla?" He shook, not like he did when he was cold, not like he did when he was scared. This was something else. Something worse. Hot tears dripped onto his fingers. "Mom! Dad! Get up, please! _You're not supposed to fall!_"

He was screaming, begging, somebody tell them to stop this and get up. He couldn't see Wally anymore. Had he run away? Had he somehow fallen, too? Everything had turned into a nightmare so fast.

Someone came running into the tent. The skidding of their shoes was loud. Dick only knew it was a man because of his shout. "TITANS! TITANS HAVE BROKEN THROUGH THE WALL!"

* * *

It sounded like thunder and lightning fused together. Jason stopped trying to locate Dr. al Ghul and turned around, wondering what could even make such a weird noise. His mouth dropped open as he stared up at the giant face peeking over the Wall. Red, skinless fingers wrapped across the top.

_Titan. That's a Titan._

Jason was perhaps the only one who didn't run when the Titan kicked a hole through the Wall. Maybe he was brave, maybe he was stupid, but mostly he was frozen in place by utter shock. A Titan. A Titan nearly four times than it could possibly be.

He was only started to run when he saw the first Titans through the haze of debris, but many would have said that he was running in the wrong direction. Well, in this neighborhood, nobody was going to try to save him.

His house… his house was there. "Mom!" Jason screamed, and ran faster. He raced towards the Titans while everyone else fled. All he had to do was get around the corner, around that final corner, and he would find his house, his mom, all safe, and they would escape from Gotham District together.

He didn't even realize that he had rushed past Talia. Talia turned around, and knew in an instant what the boy was trying to do.

A giant piece of stone had crushed the roof of Jason's house. He could see his mother pinned underneath, trying vainly to pull herself free. Her face had gone white from the pain. Jason put on a last burst of speed, scraping his knees as he crashed down beside her. "Mom! Don't worry, I'll get you out of here."

"The Titans are coming in, aren't they?" Catherine was scared. Jason had never seen his mother scared before, and that scared him. Catherine grabbed her son's hand with her own. It was shaking. "Jason, you have to run."

"We'll both run, once I get you out of here," Jason answered stubbornly. Tears were streaming down his mother's face—the collapsed roof was hurting her bad. Jason pulled his hand free and pushed, pulled, lifted with all of his defiant strength, but it was no good. A little boy's determination wasn't going to move a roof.

"You have to go now."

"No way, Mom."

"I can't run with you, Jason, my legs are broken."

"Then I'll carry you!"

"Jason, just this once, _listen to me!_" Jason flinched as his mother screamed, but he kept struggling to lift the collapsed roof off of his mother. He could see Titans approaching, and for the first time he understood what true terror was. His mother looked up, her features sagging in relief. "Talia, oh thank God."

"Hello, Catherine."

"Quit the greeting fest!" Jason snapped. "Talia, help me get this off Mom so we can get out of here!"

"Jason…" Catherine grabbed his hand again, this time refusing to let go. She was still weeping, and Jason knew now that it wasn't just because of the pain. "Baby, promise me that you'll live. Promise me."

"M-Mom?"

"Please."

"Yeah, I promise, okay? Now let's get you out of—hey!"

Jason was picked up and slung over Talia's shoulder. Dr. al Ghul's daughter straightened up and promptly began running away.

_"Talia, what are you doing?!"_

"Jason!"

"Mom!" They reached for each other desperately as the distance continued to lengthen. Both were weeping.

"Live, Jason!" his mother cried. "Live!"

Jason's eyes never closed. His hand never stopped reaching, as though somehow he could will his mother out from under the rubble, and they would take each other by the hand and flee. He watched as the grinning Titan tossed away the roof like it was nothing and picked up his weakly struggling mother. Blood spattered on Titan, house, and pavement as Catherine Todd was bitten in half.

Jason could feel his heart stop. He could feel everything that had ever mattered to him die in an instant. He could feel all of his love turn into inconsolable rage. He screamed until he couldn't breathe, pounding on Talia's back as he sobbed.

"We could have saved her. Traitor! We could have saved her!"

"No," Talia snapped, and her voice was just as matter-of-fact as always. She put his feet back on the ground, her expression harsh as she stared into his eyes. "Neither of us could have saved her. You are weak, Jason, and I care about my own skin. That is simply how it is. Your mother wanted to live, and that is exactly what you will do."

She had him climb up on her back and ordered him to hold on. Jason noticed now the 3D Maneuver Gear she had on, and was confused. Only military personnel had the authority to possess Maneuver Gear. Talia took a running start, and soon the 3DMG was carrying her and Jason over the rooftops.

"Let's get to the ships."

* * *

Tim blinked curiously at the book his father placed in his hands, and he set it down on his lap and began turning through the pages. There were handwritten notes and several sketches, but most of the pages were blank. He looked back up at his dad, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "What's this?"

Jack Drake smiled down at his son. "It's for you. It used to mine, and before that it was your grandfather's."

"But… there's hardly anything in here!" Tim was aghast. His father smiled again, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I've never really been a writer. Your grandfather was much the same. I guess this book has been waiting for you all this time."

Tim's eyes grew big, wondering. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

Father and son looked up as something boomed in the distance. Even from where they were, they could feel the ground lurch. "Dad, what was that?"

Jack's face was pale. He limped quickly over to the window, jerking the curtains fully open. Smoke roiled up from the Wall, barely visible in the distance. "Something's there," he whispered. The businessman turned to his son. "Tim, we have to go now. What do you think of a nice summer trip? We can visit other districts inside of Wall Cassandra. We'll pull out the maps and you can pick out which ones as we go."

Jack wasn't in the habit of talking around Tim's questions. So the boy didn't say yes or no as he slowly stood up from where he had been curled up in his chair. "Can I bring my book?"

"Sure! In fact, I insist that you do." Jack looked over as Miss Elizabeth came in, her eyes round with fear as she escorted two Garrison soldiers into the parlor.

"Mr. Drake, we're here to escort you and your son to safety."

"No," Jack said firmly, and pointed to the younger lad who obviously possessed no rank. "This soldier is here to escort us. You, sir, are going to make certain that Miss Elizabeth and her family get to the ships safely. Understood?"

"Mr. Drake—"

"_Understood?_"

"Yes, sir."

The two soldiers split between the Drakes and their servants. Tim ran upstairs and grabbed his schoolbag, stuffing his writing utensils and the book inside. It felt like he would need them. Clutching the handles in his small hand, he ran downstairs and joined his father and the soldier. He never thought to ask the soldier what his name was, and he would never find out.

The ships were filling up with people. It didn't take long for Tim to decipher the screams about Titans breaking through the Wall. He jerked to a halt, eyes stretching wide with his terror, and the soldier promptly started carrying him so they could continue onward. Tim managed not to drop his bag.

They squeezed onto the ship. The soldier set Tim down and disappeared into the crowds. He was probably going to die. It was a scary thing to think. Jack sat beside Tim, asking him if he was alright. Tim nodded silently, pressing closer to his father's side.

Tim wasn't used to being jostled like this. It was scary. Someone tripped over him and dropped like a sack of potatoes. The look in the other boy's tear-filled eyes was terrifying and so, so sad.

"Mom," he whimpered, and hid his face behind his hands.

* * *

Dick had heard the screams, knew that the audience had fled in mindless terror. Everyone was gone—the Ringmaster, the crowds, the performers,his family, _everyone._ He knew he should run too, but he was unable to rise up from his knees as he wept. Everyone gone, gone, gone.

"Dick! _Dick!_"

He was confused to hear his own name, and looked down. Wally was clinging precariously to the spikes that acted as a ladder up to the trapeze. He hadn't run away at all. It was now that Dick realized the stability of this pole had also been compromised, and they were swaying dangerously. He was going to fall, too.

"C'mon dude, we've gotta get out of here," Wally called. "The Titans are coming, and we're too close to the Wall!"

"Wally… my family… Mom and Dad…"

"I'm sorry, Dick." The young Grayson could see tears tracking down Wally's face, too. "I'm so, so sorry. But we have got to run."

He reached for Dick's hand. Together they climbed back down, and just as they fled the tent the entire thing collapsed. Wally ran, pulling Dick behind, but he had never been able to keep up with his best friend's rapid pace.

"Wally, you know I'm not fast enough."

"Keep running." Wally stopped and gripped Dick's shoulders as the other boy panted, trying to catch his breath. "Keep running, you hear me? I'll save a spot for you on the ship. We're gonna make it, Dick. We'll go to Central. Okay?"

Dick nodded. "Okay." He watched as Wally dashed ahead, and ran after him as fast as he could. The crowd around the docks was nearly impregnable, so Dick used his small size to his advantage, wriggling his way through to the front. He could see Wally, waving to him from the deck of the last ship, and he ran faster.

The gates were closed just as he reached them. The ships withdrew their ramps. Dick stumbled to a halt, staring across as Wally with wide, frightened eyes. Wally's relieved expression turned to horror.

"The ships are full," the soldiers stated again and again. "No more passengers can be admitted."

"But you can't—"

"What about my child?"

"Please! I'll pay you!"

"Wait!" Wally grabbed the arm of the soldier next to him. He licked his lips, suddenly dry. "I want to switch."

The soldier blinked down at him. "What?"

Dick stared in horror as Wally pointed at him. "That's my best pal over there. You toss me across, and your buddies over there toss him across. A switch."

The soldier couldn't believe what he was hearing. Neither could Dick. "Wally, no!"

Wally refused to look at him, gazing intently up at the soldier. "Please."

The soldier lifted Wally up onto the railing. Two lifted Dick, who was struggling wildly and on the verge of hysteria. "Wally, no! Don't! _You can't!_"

Wally jumped. A few people on the edge of the dock caught him and pulled him up. Dick screamed. He cried. Wally just looked at him with a strange little smile, and hugged him, murmuring something into his ear. Dick was thrown across, and the ship pulled away from the dock.

The soldier who caught him, who had agreed to this switch, looked across at Wally with an expression akin to awe. He saluted. Wally had done the very thing that soldier had sworn an oath to do—offered up his heart. Wally saluted back, smiling. How could he be smiling?

"You'll die!" Dick wailed.

Wally scoffed, loping along easily to keep pace with the ship. "C'mon Dick, you know me! I'm waaaaaay too fast for those Titans." He waved, and Dick sobbed as his best pal continued to smile. "See you around, Dick!"

"Wally…"

The ship passed beyond hearing range, beyond sight. The water gates closed. The last Dick saw of Wally West was his wave, his smile. The boy crumpled down on the deck and wept, for his family, for his friends. He grieved with the rest of the ship.

_"Just tell them, okay?"_ That was what Wally had murmured. Dick knew what he meant.

"Is this all we can do?" a voice whispered. "Cry?" Dick turned his head at the sound of a harsh, broken laugh. A boy even younger than he was stood up and pushed his way to the railing. "I'll kill them all," he vowed, sniffing as tears ran off his chin. "You hear me, Titans?! You're dead! Every single one of you. I won't rest until your existence is erased from this world!"

Dick watched him scream, a little boy raging at giants. Everyone fell silent once more, moans and wails cut off by the horrific appearance of a new Titan, ramming a hole all the way through the Wall. Gotham District had been lost. Wall Cassandra had been lost.

And now, all humanity could was run.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's notes:**_You know, I thought updates would be frequent but then college. Yeah. Sorry about that. So don't worry, _I have not forgotten about my baby._ I write on the bus, but editing is another story entirely. *sigh*

The Batboys cope by being fine.

_**Warnings:** _Some blood/infections. Past-tense deaths.

* * *

_Information that can be shared at this time:_

It is unknown whether or not Titans possess any true intelligence. All attempts of communication, made almost entirely by the soldiers of the Survey Corps, have failed and frequently resulted in death. So far, humans have discovered no way to kill Titans.

Due to the fact that they prey exclusively on humans, it was originally believed that Titans require a human diet in order to survive. However, they have lived in an area unpopulated by mankind for over a century. The conclusion the Survey Corps' science division has reached is that Titans do not feed on humans out of necessity, but simply for pleasure's sake. A child pulling off a fly's wings.

This information is not available to the public. It would be disquieting.

* * *

There was no pandemonium after the second Titan broke through Wall Cassandra. Every human bearing witness to this impossible thing was too shocked now to even scream. Jack watched his son stand up and stare, a seven-year-old boy who should be curled up in the parlor reading about dragons. He had never, ever wanted to see his child afraid, and Tim's expression was nothing but that.

He expected him to wonder how, or to ask what was happening. The question Jack did receive, however, was: "Have you seen that Titan before?"

Jack slowly got back up to his feet, keeping Tim's schoolbag in hand so it wouldn't be lost. The ship was still terrifyingly silent, strangers and friends holding fast to each other as they tried to keep what hope they had left. The former soldier seemed to tower over the others slumped on the deck, and it was a pitiful sight. Jack turned his eyes to the Titan standing at the gap in the Wall, before it was obscured by a strange cloud and disappeared entirely.

"Never," he said quietly. He barely had to look into his memories of the Survey Corps to know this. "I've never seen anything like that." He found his gaze drawn to the boy who had pushed his way to the railing just moments before. Scraped and bloody hands gripped the cold iron. Jack limped forward until he was next to him. "You said you're going to kill them all, right? How do you plan on doing that?"

The stunned look gradually eased from the boy's face, replaced with a furious determination. Jack knew a survivor when he saw one. The kid used his dirty sleeve to wipe tears from his face. "I'll figure it out."

Jack nodded as he pulled the strap of Tim's schoolbag up over his shoulder. "That's what humans do best." The cloud around the hole the Titan had rammed through Wall Cassandra had dissipated. More Titans could already be seen staggering though. The retired soldier's teeth clenched, but he had seen too much for even this to push him to vomiting. "I'm Jack Drake. Who are you?"

"Jason Todd," the boy mumbled. He turned away, back pressed against the rail as his head hung. Jack understood. There came times when you just couldn't look anymore. The air was rank with blood and fear, and the sobs were building up again. Some people were clutching their heads, rocking as they whimpered. Jason stared down at his hands, grimy and cut.

Tim had started to follow his father when he went to the railing, but his eye was caught by another boy. He was older than Tim, by a lot yet not so much, sitting on the deck with his head in his hands. He seemed familiar somehow. Tim approached, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket before tapping the boy's shoulder tentatively.

The boy flinched before looking over with red, tear-soaked eyes. He didn't seem to realize what the handkerchief was for, so Tim brushed it over one cheek to give him an idea. The boy accepted it at last, not saying a word but nodding a little bit to show his thanks. Now that he wasn't curled up so tight, Tim recognized the costume he was wearing.

"I'm Tim," he said quietly, sitting next to the older boy as he cleaned off the tears with the handkerchief. "You're Dick, aren't you? From the Flying Graysons. Me and my dad go to see you at the end of every summer."

Dick's fingers closed into a fist around the handkerchief, trembling. "We're not flying anymore."

"Where's the rest of your family?"

"We're… we're not flying. Not anymore."

Tim's eyes widened as he understood. Dick Grayson was the only Grayson. All of the people he knew and cared about were gone. That was… that was awful. Tim tried to say he was sorry, but he couldn't tell whether he made a sound or not.

Dick pressed the heel of a palm against his eyes, trying to keep his sobs in check. Tim looked up as a familiar hand settled on his shoulder, and met his father's eyes. Distress stared into weariness.

"He's alone, Dad."

Jack turned to look over at the Jason, still standing with his back against the rail, fingers gripping the bars. "So is he." The man tilted his head back, gazing up at the sky. "It's getting dark. You two will be cold on your own."

Dick quieted. His hands moved slowly away from his face and settled on the deck, palms pressing against the wood. "You want to help… why?"

Tim put a hand on Dick's shoulder and smiled, eyes crinkling in the way Miss Elizabeth would say was just like his mother. "You're with us now," he told the older boy. "It'll be okay."

"Will it?" Dick stared back down at the deck again, shaking once more. "_Will it?_" He was crying, even though he was trying not to, and Tim sat down next to him because he didn't know what else to do. He looked to his father, expecting him to do something, but Jack was still watching Jason.

The boy at the rail scowled. "I don't need your help. Save it for Mr. Sob Story over there."

Tim flinched. So did Dick. Jack, however, was unfazed by Jason's attitude. "You can't exterminate the Titans if you die before we get to Wall Iris." Jason's eyes snapped up, glaring, and Jack continued. "Your hands have been sliced open in more places than you can probably count. There's no doubt that they're already infected. You have nothing but the clothes on your back, and with the nights as cold as they are and more than fourteen days of travel ahead of us, you won't last long."

"I don't need your help," Jason repeated. This time he spoke with even more venom, as if that would make a difference.

"Everyone needs help," Jack replied. He had maintained the same mild tone since Jason's snarling had first begun. "Otherwise, nothing would get done."

It was a standoff. Jason's stubbornness against Jack's reasoning. Tim waited. His dad had always had a way of getting people to do what he wanted. It was what made him such a good businessman—and such a bad soldier. Dick watched, also, at least partially interested in how this was going to end.

Jason maintained his scowl, green eyes narrowed up at the adult facing him. However, resolve can only carry a broken human for so long, and Jack Drake already knew this. The first cracks were already visible, in the trembling of the boy's arms. Jack dropped his cane and Tim's schoolbag and surged forward, reaching Jason as he finally snapped.

Jack pulled him in and held him there, slowly sinking down to the deck as the boy sobbed. Jason's fingers clenched around the fabric of Jack's shirt, tears soaking into the cotton as he screamed. Other survivors on the ship looked on. "I'll kill them," Jason whimpered. "I'll kill them all."

"I know," Jack murmured.

Tim stood up and pulled Dick after, leaving the acrobat with his father as he retrieved the cane and his schoolbag. Jack removed his greatcoat, which he had thought to grab before fleeing the house, and pulled it over all of them. They were reluctant to be so close at first, but the cold didn't leave them with many other options.

Tim fell asleep with his head tucked between his father's chin and shoulder, the schoolbag hugged to his chest as he held onto the hem of Jack's shirt. Jason didn't move from where he was, his tear-streaked face hidden in Jack's chest. Dick was back-to-back with the elder Drake, and though he didn't make a sound, Jack could feel his shoulders shaking as he cried himself to sleep.

The last thought through Jack's mind was _why them?_

* * *

Dick was the first to wake up. He didn't remember falling asleep, but of course, he must have. His eyes felt sore, burning from the amount of tears he had shed. There was warmth at his back and he knew it was Mr. Drake, along with his son and the other boy he had chosen to help. Jaden?

_Help._ Wally had helped, and now he was dead.

Dick slid out from underneath Jack's great, shivering a little as he stepped into the open air. His arms were still bare in the style of the Flying Grayson uniform, excepting the guards toward his wrists. Usually the acrobats of Haly's Circus would pull on coats or jackets after a performance. He craned his neck up, taking in the red dawn that had spread across the sky.

A red dawn meant that blood had been spilled. Dick remembered Miss Katerina telling him that. He had never really believed it before, her being a fortune teller and all, but now that he had seen all of it with his own eyes… it really was like what Uncle Rick would say. _"Miss Katerina is always right."_

Dick reckoned there had been more blood spilled yesterday than there had been for the past hundred years. And it wasn't over, not until everyone was evacuated to Wall Iris. More would still die. Dick's throat closed as he thought of the blood, the people who would be devoured and never buried. Some of that blood belonged to his family. Some of those people had been his family.

Maybe, though… maybe some of his friends had survived. Maybe there were a few folk of Haly's Circus who had made it out alive. If they were anywhere, they would be here on this ship. Dick nodded as he made up his mind. He couldn't stay here with the Drakes, after all.

"Where are you going, Dick?"

Dick froze as Mr. Drake addressed him. Slowly he turned back around. "I'm going to look for my troupemates, sir. I have to."

Mr. Drake nodded understanding. He couldn't move much, however, with two boys piled on top of him. "If you don't find them… come back here. We'll be waiting for you."

The thought of never finding anyone, _anyone_ who knew him, was beyond terrifying. Yet, the kindness in Mr. Drake's eyes and the promise he had given were reassuring for Dick. He didn't really know why. He nodded back to Mr. Drake and walked away.

* * *

Jason felt warm when he woke up. It was a weird feeling. Usually his toes were icy whenever he woke up. Why was he still wearing his shoes? Jason's eyes snapped open, and he remembered where he was. The Titans, the ship, and this stubborn old man who had somehow gotten him to cry again. It was nice here, though, Jason had to admit that much. Warm, safely cocooned, and oh holy walls was he _cramped._

He wriggled his way to freedom, teetering a bit with the sway of the ship. Neither Jack nor Tim responded to his movement, and the crying kid from last night was already gone. Jason stretched, but immediately retracted his hands with a hiss as the damaged skin split open again. Jack was right, it was already infected. Where was Dr. al Ghul when you needed him?

It was well past dawn—sometime in the eighth hour. The stench of blood was still strong, but it had been hanging in the air for so long that Jason was already growing accustomed to it. Sick. He moved quietly across the deck, going to the spot along the rail that he couldn't seem to stay away from. The Wall was barely visible now, much of it blocked by hills and the structures of towns and cities they had passed.

Jason had always found silence eerie. His environment was the slums, the darker streets of Gotham District, and those were places that never slept. Only a few times had Jason woken up early enough to find the haunts he knew dead silent. It had felt like his familiar neighborhood had been turned into a graveyard. And now, that was exactly what it was.

This silence was like those silences. Oppressive. Stifling. The most hushed noises, like the skitter of rats' paws, resounded in his head. It made him reluctant to move. Jason was keenly aware of the motion of the ship, its rocking as it cut through the water. He could see other ships moving on the river too, more than there had been yesterday.

How many had there been yesterday? Four. Each of them loaded to maximum capacity, which was three hundred. Jason knew this because he had hoped to become a ship's captain someday, see what was outside Gotham. Twelve hundred had escaped the massacre, which meant that thousands of people in Gotham District… people that Jason knew…

Jason hated silence. It kept him silent, too, even when all he wanted to do was scream. He clenched his fists, even though the infected flesh gave fiery protest. The boy turned and saw Jack, who was looking at him with an expression entirely different from the one he had seen last night. It was colder. "How long have you been watching me, old man?"

"Since you elbowed me in the face."

"What, am I supposed to be sorry about that?" Jason masked his embarrassment with disrespect, as was his wont. He was surprised that Jack shook his head rather than getting angry. He was an adult, right? Jason remembered his mom's frequent jab in his ribs, her emphasis on good manners. "Anyway, thanks. For sharing the coat."

"Any time." Jack slowly sat up, moving his son's head from his shoulder to his leg. Tim shifted closer to the warmth, not waking. Jack picked up his greatcoat and started folding it. "Have you got that plan figured out?"

Jason's eyes immediately went in the direction of the Wall, despite it being barely visible now. "Working on it. What about you? I've seen enough schemers to know that look."

"You just focus on those Titans." Jack substituted Tim's pillow again, freeing his leg as he tucked the folded coat under his son's head. Jason was starting to suspect the kid could sleep through anything. Jack took his cane and got up to his feet. "My concerns are a little more immediate."

Did Tim even understand what he had? Jason doubted it. He turned away, propping his forearms on the railing as his hands dangled loosely over the edge. "Where's that other kid? Grays or something."

"Dick Grayson," Jack corrected him. "He'll be finishing up below decks by now. He wanted to see if any of his friends made it onto the ship."

"Not likely though, is it."

"No."

Jason's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Of course not," he murmured. He dropped a hand into his pocket out of habit, and there was his packet of cigarettes. The matches were still there, too. Five of them. Too bad there wasn't an isolated corner on this boat where he could light up. Too bad his hands hurt too much to even move.

"Look after Tim for me," Jack said. Jason turned his head and gave him a look. Jack returned it with considerably greater effect. "The soldiers have barely any idea what to do, and there are no suitable protocols for this situation. And there are provisions and injuries to consider."

"So you're just going to waltz in there and take control?" Jason questioned. Skeptical didn't begin to cover it.

"It's what I do best," Jack replied. With that, he walked away. Or, as Jason put it, waltzed.

The boy frowned, giving the slumbering Tim a disapproving look. "Hmph. Look at all the trouble you're causing me, runt." He turned his back to him, watching as more and more of Wall Cassandra disappeared from sight.

Dick finally returned. He went straight to the railing, staring down at the water below. Jason rolled his eyes over in the boy's direction, taking the moment to wallow in awkward silence. "Jumping is easy, you know," Dick said suddenly. Jason wasn't sure if the kid was talking to him, or just himself. "Especially for an acrobat. But I'm used to somebody catching me."

"Suicide?" Jason snorted. "Lame."

Dick's eyes snapped wide, and Jason immediately regretted what he had said. It was too late to take it back now, though. He managed not to cringe as Dick turned to stare at him, but then it was Jason's turn to go wide-eyed because Dick _laughed._

It was a quiet, chuckling sound at first, but finally built up to a full-blown something that seemed to fit better under the category of cackle rather than laugh. It wasn't manic or hysterical, like Jason had heard on several occasions. Dick's eyes glowed, for just a moment, and Jason thought he had just caught a glimpse of who this kid really was.

"Yeah, it really would be lame," Dick agreed. His tone was light, the polar opposite to what it had been just a few seconds ago, and he smiled a little. "Plus, Wally'd be pissed. Can't… can't have that, can we?"

Jason shrugged. "Guess not."

"Excuse me, are you Jason Todd?"

Jason and Dick both looked over. A tall, blond man who neither of them recognized had approached. He was carrying a physician's case. Jason's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who's asking?"

"I'm Dr. Adam Strange," the man introduced himself. "Jack Drake told me to look for—I believe he said _the angry kid with a serious hand infection._"

"The angry kid," Dick repeated. He snickered. Jason was about to kick him, but then realized that this doctor had come here from who knew where on the ship just because Jack had told him to. Maybe the old man wasn't so bad, after all.

Dr. Strange had Jason sit down on the deck, further away from the rail so as to avoid the chance of losing his equipment, and opened his part. The pain was a lot more intense than Jason had been expecting, and he hated the tears that kept shooting up in his eyes. "I'm not whimpering, you're whimpering," he snapped.

Dr. Strange nodded as he pried another piece of rubble loose. Pus oozed out across Jason's palms. "Very astute."

It was right about this time that Tim woke up, naturally. He blinked up at the sky, squinting in confusion. "Huh? Where am I?"

"In hell," Jason stated flatly. He yelped as Dr. Strange pulled out a long splinter.

Dick winced. "I wouldn't say that, Jason."

"Your family and every friend you have ever known have been slaughtered by the Titans, Dick. What _else_ do you call this? Ow, ow, watch it, Doc!"

"Sorry," Dr. Strange muttered. He paused in extracting fragments from Jason's hands to clean them off again.

Tim yawned as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He hopped up to his feet and stretched, then looped the strap of his schoolbag across his shoulders and picked up his father's greatcoat. "Where's my dad?"

"He had stuff to take care of," Jason told him. He frowned, wondering what Mr. Drake was up to. The boy gritted his teeth as he saw Dr. Strange pick up the tweezers again.

"Still?" Tim shook his head, remembering with some bitterness the reply his father would give him every time. "Always." He went over to Jason and Dick and sat back down, crossing his legs and setting the folded greatcoat in his lap. "Hm, I'm hungry."

It was more an observation than a demand, but Dick still responded. Naturally he'd want to fix things. "What am I supposed to do about that? There was no time for people to grab any food. There's probably some in the ship's storage, but only staff has access—"

He blinked down at the piece of jerky Tim had stuck in his hand. The younger boy smiled. "Dad always leaves snacks in his coats. He added a lot of pockets in this one, it's his favorite."

Jason made a disgusted face. He hated jerky. Dick grinned. He and his troupemates had jerky all the time when they were travelling—cattle jerky, turkey jerky, all kinds. Cousin JJ was crazy about spicy stuff, but Dick loved it with honey. He immediately asked how much there was, and Tim just shrugged in reply. There were a lot of pockets.

Dr. Strange finished bandaging Jason's hands. "Just don't be active for the next few days," he told him. "The more rest you give them, the faster they'll heal."

"Yeah, whatever." Jason waved the physician off, and Dr. Strange left. Jason turned to Dick and Tim, who were emptying the contents of Jack's greatcoat and trying to divide things evenly between the four of them. "If you two morons give me any jerky, there will be hell to pay."

* * *

It was hot today. By the time they reached noon, Jason was just about ready to jump off the ship and into the river, just to cool off. But that would mean being left behind. He didn't hate existing that much. Man though, he had forgotten just how much he hated summer.

The soldiers had been absent from the deck for a few hours, now. Jason suspected that Jack had something to do with this. Dick was sprawled out on the deck, dozing like some sort of cat. Jason thought he looked silly, still wearing his circus uniform. Tim had his eyes fixed on the upper deck, waiting for any sign of his father. Jason had been tapping out a ditty he didn't know on the deck, the drumming of his index fingers barely audible to anyone else. There was barely any wind.

Eventually the soldiers returned. Jason watched as they went around the ship, stopping to talk with each and every passenger. How come? Jason used his foot to nudge Dick's head. The other boy's eyes fluttered open, and for the first time it occurred to Jason just how utterly _blue_ they were. They matched the midday sky perfectly.

"Whaaaat?" the circus boy drawled lazily, tilting his head back to look at Jason.

"Something's happening," Jason replied. He gestured a bandaged hand toward a group of soldiers. "The Garrison troops are back."

Tim was watching the soldiers too, squinting. Reading wasn't the only thing that had become difficult for him now. "I wonder what they're after."

"That would be your food."

Jason spun around, yelping as his palms hit the deck. Dick was up on his feet already and standing between the soldier who had spoken and Jason and Tim. Jason stood up as well, and Tim picked up his father's coat as he did the same.

"Supplies are scarce," Dick said, eying the soldier warily.

"That's why Mr. Drake wants to compile them in one area," the soldier explained patiently. Obviously he had been over this many times before. "That way we can distribute everything evenly between the passengers until we reach Wall Iris."

"This was my dad's idea?" Tim asked. He seemed surprised by the obvious respect in the soldier's voice.

"Yeah. Jack Drake may have been a terrible soldier, but when it comes to taking a mess and making it operate smoothly—"

"Hey." Jason's face had hardened into an angry expression. "Watch what you say about that old man. Little ears, you know."

The soldier had a feeling that he didn't have to worry about little ears so much as little fists. He decided to just talk to Dick after that, making no further comments about Jack Drake. Their food was given over for the benefit of the rest of the ship or some such, and the soldier hurried away. Jason had watched him with a vaguely homicidal smirk the entire time. Dick smacked him upside the head, wondering again why Jason was so… Jason. Sheesh.

By the time afternoon had dragged into evening, everyone on the ship had been numbered, those who were sick, pregnant, or especially frail had been brought below decks so they wouldn't be exposed to the elements, and rations had been decided for all of the people aboard the ship. There was just enough to provide two meals a day for everyone. Ordinarily it would just be a ten-day trip to Wall Iris, but with all the ships on the river…

Jack really was good at this. Being a businessman, the head of a business, Jason supposed it was only natural. He and Dick were both amazed at how quickly the soldiers had adjusted to receiving their cues from the old Drake. Especially since, going from what that one soldier had said, Jack didn't have a good history with the military. Terrible soldier, huh?

Jason split off from Tim and Dick the first chance he got. There was something about the rapidness of being incorporated into this group that unnerved him. Sure, he had always had his mother and the al Ghuls, but it had felt like he was a solo act. He wasn't used to being a part of something. He didn't know what to make of it.

He found himself at the stern of the ship, staring off to where Wall Cassandra was long out of sight by now. There were even more ships on the river; seven additions to the original four that had made it out of Gotham District. He could hear cries of confusion, distress, rage. They were a total mess, it was obvious even from this distance.

"I thought I'd find you back here."

Jason looked over his shoulder. "Oh, it's you. Your kid's been lookin' for you, old man."

"You mean Tim's been waiting for me. There's a difference." Jack limped forward, his cane tapping on the deck until he reached the rail. "Thank you for looking after him."

"Wasn't hard," Jason said dismissively. "He didn't wake up until after Grayson got back. How's that plan of your s going?"

Jack shook his head. "Not yet," he replied. "Let's go fetch the other boys. The soldiers will be passing out dinner rations soon."

* * *

Beans. Dick muttered something about an old nemesis before eating. Jason couldn't stand the flavorlessness of them. Jack hadn't tasted this stuff since he had been in the Survey Corps. Tim had no idea what to make of the strange substance in his mouth. Nevertheless, they ate it all. The boys were a little surprised to see an adult licking out the contents of his bowl.

Jack took the bowls and spoons, accepting Dick's hand up. Tim retrieved his father's cane. "I won't be able to stay with you three tonight," Jack explained. "There's a lot of work to be done. Behave." This last word was directed entirely at Jason, who gave a sardonic look in response.

With Jack gone again, the boys weren't sure what to do. Jason wandered to his usual spot by the rail. A wind was coming in from the north, pushing Jason's bangs into his face. He shivered some, and turned as Dick put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's get some sleep," the older boy said. He glanced toward the upper deck, where Jack had gone. "I have a feeling tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"Yeah." Tim yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm tired."

Jason quirked an eyebrow at the kid. "You got more sleep than any of us, runt, what have you even been doing to be tired?"

"Thinking."

"And thinking is exhausting."

Tim sighed, as if he'd been over this conversation many times in the past, and unfolded the greatcoat. "I am going to sleep. If you guys don't come, I'm not sharing the coat."

Jason doubted that Tim could really keep him away from anything, but he decided not to argue. He really was tired. Besides, Dr. Strange had said that rest would help his hands heal faster. These bandages itched.

* * *

Jason knew that a person's demeanor could change overnight. He'd seen and experienced it plenty of times himself. But Dick's change of attitude was almost alarming. He was gone again when Jason woke up, and he didn't realize it until he had shoved Tim off of his chest. How was he supposed to breathe with that runt piled on top of him?

"Where's Dick?" Tim mumbled, and that was when it occurred to Jason that he was gone. The boy stood up and looked around, but couldn't see him anywhere. It wasn't time for breakfast rations, so Jason folded the coat, Tim grabbed his schoolbag, and they set out to find him.

Asking around, they learned he had been helping the soldiers move supplies. _Strong, that one, _several people commented. _I haven't seen anyone throw themselves into work like that._ Tim seemed to think that Dick helping out was a good thing, but Jason was only growing more apprehensive. These were signs he was all too familiar with—he had seen his mother go through them, and even if Dick wasn't much to him, he didn't want to see the kid bury himself in the same way. It was years before his mother had resurfaced. If Dick went down the same road, who knew how long it would be for him?

They found the circus boy on the upper deck. He was looking up at the roof, with the saddest expression on his face. Tim stumbled to a halt, grabbing the Jason's sleeve. He gave him an irritable look. "What?"

"He's scared," Tim whispered. He bit his lip. "He—he wants to climb up there, but he's scared. Because he saw his family fall from the trapeze."

Trapeze? So that's what he did at the circus. When the Titans broke through, his family must have been in the middle of a performance. Jason turned back around, and for a moment he wondered how the boy was even standing. He had lost more than any of them. How had Jason possessed to gall to mock him for contemplating suicide?

Dick seemed to realize he was being watched, and when he saw Jason and Tim, his grieved expression immediately transitioned into a smile. "Finally awake, I see," the acrobat remarked. He made as if to join them, but kept walking right past. "Just in time for breakfast."

"Grayson—"

"Yeah?" Dick stopped and looked back over at Jason, eyebrows lifted curiously. Had he really been so sad just a moment ago? It was hard to believe.

Jason forgot what he was going to say. It wasn't as though it would have made a difference. "Nothing," he muttered. He followed the older boy's lead as they went to get their breakfast. Tim left his side and ran up to stay next to Dick. Close as a shadow, he was.

Jason couldn't stop thinking about it as he ate his breakfast. A trapeze artist who was afraid of heights. That was wrong. More wrong than Jason knew how to express. Dick, who was eating with gusto and making Tim groan with a stream of terrible puns, was terrified of the very thing he used to love.

_"I'm used to somebody catching me."_

He watched the kid carefully after that. There were no more moments when he caught Dick off guard, hidden away somewhere to cry. He was pitching in all over the place, from sunup to sundown. More than anything, he strove to make people smile again. He even got Jason now and then.

Tim was constantly tagging along with the older boy, and Jason took to calling him a leech as well as a runt. The young Todd was left to his own devices for the most part, but with his hands bandaged and Dr. Strange popping up at random points, he really couldn't do anything. Inactivity was the bane of Jason's existence.

Jack was rarely seen these days. He joined them for breakfast and dinner usually, but the rest of the time he was gone, working to keep a ship of survivors together. He had established lines of communication with the others ships, and was helping them as well. Jason referred to it as the Enterprise of Runaway Food, but that was only mentally. Tim didn't appear to be surprised by his father's absence. In fact, he seemed resigned to it.

The younger Drake couldn't keep up with Dick all day, of course, so he would disappear sometime in the afternoon. Since he didn't have anything else to do, Jason decided to find out where he was going. It took a while, but eventually he found the kid hidden away on the upper deck, his schoolbag open beside him as he perused a book.

"Are you… runt, are you doing your _homework?_"

Tim blinked up at Jason in surprise. "Yeah," he replied. "Should I not be?"

Jason shook his head. "You're such a weird little kid." He dropped down beside him, craning his neck over to read the text. "So, is this math? That's pretty much the only subject I'm any good at. What about you?"

"Math is my best, too. This book is for fourteen-year-olds."

Jason coughed. "Seriously? That's twice your age, runt!"

"I know. Math is my best subject."

Jason seized the book and whacked Tim lightly on the head with it. The usually quiet boy burst into a fit of giggles as he tried to dodge in their cramped location, and then he retaliated with tickles along Jason's ribcage. Jason lurched back, banging his head on the wall. Though they didn't know it, others on the ship could hear their laughter, and it brought back smiles that had been gone for some time.

* * *

Eight days had passed since the fall of Wall Cassandra. Ordinarily they would have reached Wall Iris by now, but the sheer number of ships on the river had added four days to their journey. There were twenty-three of them by now, and it was already known that there would be any more.

Jason's hands had finished healing up a couple of days ago, and he was glad to finally be rid of the bandages. Dick was still being his helpful, cheery self all hours of the day, and Jason knew it was to take his mind off the grief. He would have intervened if it weren't for the happiness Dick was bringing back to others. Tim still disappeared around midday to study or read, and Jason had somehow developed a habit of dropping in on him.

On his way there today, he ran across Dick. The circus boy was sitting in the middle of a group of younger kids, some of them barely more than toddlers. Many had no families left to be connected to, just like Dick and Jason. One child, a little blonde girl, had made Dick's back her new perch, chubby arms flung around his neck.

Dick was telling stories and playing hand tricks, doing his best to take the minds of the little ones off of the horrors they had seen. Jason wondered, as he had many times before, how it was even possible for Dick to smile. It baffled him. The boy would have continued on, but when Dick got to the cards…

"Ugh." Jason dropped beside Dick and snatched the deck from his hands. The cards seemed to thrum as they moved from one palm to the other, a blur of faces and suits. The attention of the kids switched from Dick to Jason, entranced by his skill. Jason's frown broke for a moment as he remembered the nights he'd slip in on the card sharks and watch them play. And that one guy, Jason had never gotten his real name, he had been the best of them all. Also the scariest.

He was the one Jason had learned these tricks from. He couldn't deny that Joker had been a humorous sort of guy, but man had he been creepy. He was one of the deadliest criminals in Gotham District, and as soon as he was caught he was free again. Most people were terrified of him, but Joker had approved of Jason's flippancy. He had been there when—

The cards slipped from Jason's fingers, scattering across the deck. He scowled and grumbled about his clumsiness, but Dick clapped him on the shoulder. He looked over, frowning again. "You're good," Dick complimented.

"Well, you suck. It hurt me to watch."

Dick laughed, shoving Jason away. "Gee, thanks. I think Tim's waiting for you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." Jason picked up the rest of the cards and brought the deck with him. He needed practice, anyway.

* * *

Jack joined them for dinner that evening. Tim was really happy, in his quiet sort of way. Jason thought it was weird that he had already gotten so good at reading him and Dick. Jack set his empty bowl with the stack of others and took another swallow from his cup of water.

"As Jason and probably the rest of you know, I've been working on a plan."

Jason ears pricked. Was he finally going to learn just what Jack had been up to all this time? He added his bowl to the stack, too, and watched the man intently. Dick seemed curious as well, and Tim was just… watching.

"Once we reach Wall Iris, Tim and I won't be going to the refugee camps," Jack told them. "I own a house there, and that is where we will go. But since neither of you are related to us, you'll be kept with other survivors and sent to the refugee camps."

Tim immediately protested. "Dad, we can't leave them behind!"

"We'll manage, Tim," Dick assured him. "Don't worry."

"You won't have to manage," Jack replied. Dick gave him a puzzled look; Jason's eyebrows drew together. "The four of us all look alike to some extent. It wouldn't be difficult to pass you off as my sons. And Dr. Strange is willing to vouch—he's a respected doctor in Wall Iris, they'll believe him."

"You're saying we're going to pretend that _all_ of us are Drakes?" Jason asked. "That the three of us are brothers and _you're_ our dad?"

"There's a reason I've been leaving you in each other's company all this time."

Tim's eyes widened. Dick shook his head with a light chuckle. "I thought something was up," he said.

"You're sneaky," Jason stated. He looked over at Tim. "Runt isn't anything like that."

Dick cuffed Jason upside the head for using the nickname again, but Tim didn't react. He was used to Jason's titles by now. The three of them stopped as they simultaneously realized that Jack's plan had worked. They were acting like they had known each other for a long time, not for a mere eight days.

"Sneaky," Jason said again. He gave Jack a respectful nod. The guy really did know what he was doing. Dick took their dishes and went to return them to the kitchen. Jack often entrusted the secondary key to him. Jason stood up and stretched, yawning. "Well, I've been dealing with Dick's terrible card skills all day, so let's just bite it."

"Bite it?"

"_Sleep,_ runt. Let's go to sleep."

Jack stayed with them for a change. He fell asleep right away, the boys piled around him under the greatcoat. Being close to people used to bother Jason—drive him crazy, even. But this tight huddle they made was comforting. It felt safe, somehow, though he knew full well just how fragile they all were. He closed his eyes, listening to the breathing patterns he could somehow distinguish from everyone else's. Tim's was quiet, just he was. Jack's hitched a little bit, probably because of an injury during the time he had served. Dick's was deep and slow, contrasting with the energetic boy he was by day.

Tim smiled. If he hadn't been facing away from everyone else, they would have seen the tears shining in his eyes. Touch had become such a scarce thing in his life, and even though he knew his father loved him, he was just always _gone._ Tim had never been able to push past the formality of the servants. Yet here he was, with his dad and two boys he wished he really could call his brothers. It was special. It was something Tim hadn't even known he wanted.

Dick was lost in memories. Falling asleep in big family heaps wasn't a strange thing to him. It was just another thing that had always made him love his life. Now it was something he could still hold onto, a reminder of happier times. Maybe he hadn't lost everything, after all.

Though he tried, he couldn't fall asleep. Eventually he gave up and slipped out from underneath the greatcoat, going to the bow. He set his forearms on the cold iron, shivering as the chill swept across his skin. He didn't have the smile he had been wearing for everyone else's sakes, gazing up at the stars with an expression far too aged for a twelve-year-old.

"I miss you," he said to the sky. Somewhere out there, he hoped his family could hear him. His best friend. His troupemates. "I miss all of you."

"I told you this was hell." Dick flinched and looked over sharply as Jason came alongside him. The other boy lacked his usual grim cynicism, his features settled into a more solemn expression. Like Dick, he seemed far too old. Jason curled his fingers loosely over the rail, tilting his head back to look up at the stars as well. "I miss my mom, too. I keep trying not to think about it."

"Same here. I don't think it'll work for very long, though."

"Never does." Jason looked away from the stars, staring down at his hands. "She… she told me to live. Begged, really. Is this what she meant?" Dick gave no answer. Jason shook his head, his expression one of self-loathing. "I can't believe the last thing we did was fight. Why am I always so stubborn?!"

"I don't know." Dick sighed, settling his chin on his forearms. "We should probably head back."

"Yeah, we should."

They stayed out until the sun rose.

* * *

The twelve-day journey to Wall Iris finally came to a close. By then, the Drakes, Dick, and Jason had become a tight-knit group. Jason had never been a member of tight-knit group before. Growing up in the land of backstabbers tended to result in that. Dick knew what it was like, of course—he had experienced it his entire life on a much larger scale. Tim had read about it in books.

"Hey, Dick," said Jason. They were pressed up against the rail with everyone else on the ship, watching as Wall Iris' water gate opened. "Do you think anyone will really believe we're a family?"

"Yes." Dick's answer was instantaneous. He didn't even have to think about it, and for some reason that made Jason smile. He could see Tim doing the same. Only Jack wasn't, watching the Wall apprehensively. He had been planning all this time, and now the chips were in the air. Time to see where they would fall.

For the record, Jason thought they were going to be fine. Jack Drake was a sneaky man, after all. They passed through checkpoints, and since Jack possessed status, the paperwork was settled within the hour. Nobody batted an eye when they were told that Dick, Jason, and Tim were all Jack's sons.

They joined the caravan headed for Central District. When Dick had first heard that was their destination, he had nearly suffered a breakdown then and there. Instead, with a very pale countenance, he had assured Jack that there wouldn't be any problems. Jason wondered what the story was, but knew that now wouldn't be the time to ask.

* * *

Hours passed. Jason was snoring loudly from where he was sprawled across the seat. Tim was curled halfway onto his father's lap, sound asleep. Jack read, turning the pages with extra care. Dick couldn't rest, leaning forward to stare out the window at the trees they were rushing past. Wall Iris looked so different in the summer.

Dick was anxious. He could feel the stress building up from all the emotion he had fenced in, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he broke under the weight of it. It was like his soul ached. And where he was going… Wally's parents were going to be there. He would have to face them, and tell them how their son had died. He didn't know if he could do that.

Still. Despite being anxious, despite being wounded, he felt a strange sense of calm. As if, somehow, things were still going to be okay.

He said it out loud. Closed his eyes and whispered: "We're going to be okay."

He found himself believing it.


End file.
